BYU-Idaho's Big Problem

BYU-I’s Big Problem

Brett Stone Looking for Trouble

BYU-Idaho has a big problem. It’s not the dozens of professors who have quietly given up higher paying, higher prestige positions to teach here. It’s not the plethora of new state of the art buildings and facilities constructed in less than a decade. It’s not even steeply discounted tuition. 

Our big problem is that we don’t have a big problem. Although we might not like to admit it, we humans crave opposition. We need it. How else can you explain passionate rivalry sports games, mountain climbing, putting a man on the moon, or even (gasp) complaining about things that, when we honestly stop to think about them, really don’t matter much?

So it is with BYU-I. In all reality, we’ve got it about as good as it gets. Yet that is precisely the challenge we face. A common opponent or problem unites people, minimizes differences, and helps people stretch personally and collectively to achieve extremely difficult objectives. 

BYU-I students face almost none of that. This isn’t to say there’s no room to improve or that we shouldn’t honestly identify and strive to overcome more routine problems. But any honest assessment would show our problems are, if not very small, at least very different. There’s no rivalry with the University of Utah, no Communist Russia to beat to the moon, no frozen wilderness to cross in hand-carts. In response, we often complain about things that, relative to our situation, are as big as we can inflate them to be. 

How can you overcome a problem that doesn’t seem to exist, you might ask? Looking outside ourselves is a good place to start. Once we realize how many real challenges other groups and individuals face, it becomes easier to see how small our own problems really are. 

“Losing” ourselves, individually and collectively in serving others and helping them overcome their difficulties is one sure way to win the fight against inflated problems. Whether it’s teaching English in Peru, donating blood, or just offering to help a roommate or spouse with their homework, the challenges we need, and the solutions, are all around us. 

Besides feeling “warm-fuzzies”, recognizing this big problem and learning how to fight the good fight now builds us in another important way. The world as a whole is experiencing truly “big” problems. Once we graduate, those problems will be ours by inheritance and it will be our task to face and help solve them. 

Some may question the ability or destiny of “simple” BYU-I grads to help change the world. But, to paraphrase a very wise man, “The work of the world is not done by geniuses...”

We have a God-given responsibility and opportunity to help develop solutions to the world’s biggest problems. BYU-I’s big problem is also its most amazing opportunity and is anything but non-existent. We’ve just got to see it for what it really is and then go to work. 

TV Melodrama

I’m a member of some groups that, although fairly common-place here, in most places outside BYU-Idaho would be considered fairly unique: Eagle Scout, returned missionary, pumpkin pie eating contest participant (yeah, I lost), blond-haired but near-fluent Spanish speaker, etc. There is one group that I’m a member of though that I’ve found to be in a very small, interesting minority: I grew up in a house without cable TV. 

I know, right? Just to prevent any undue judgements, yes, we did have running water and electricity, a toaster and we drove a horseless carriage. We even lived in a pretty normal neighborhood. But, my parents just never saw the logic behind paying $30 each month for us kids to stay inside and watch stuff they didn’t think would help us in the long or short run, anyway. “That’s enough money in a year to buy a new bike!” my mom would say, trying to put it into perspective for me.

Our neighbors’ examples failed to change their misguided behavior as my younger sister and I had hoped. So, she and I were exposed to exotic 90’s gems such as “Saved by the Bell” and “Fresh Prince of Bel-Aire” when we visited friends’ houses. “How wonderful it would be”, we thought, upon returning to our 3-channel 19 inch living room TV, “to have 50 whole channels!”

Then I went to college. Now, on the extremely rare occasion when I start flipping through channels while eating dinner, I wonder, sometimes out loud, “How can you have almost 100 channels with absolutely nothing to watch?” Ok fine, so I love watching MythBusters when I get the chance. What guy doesn’t like seeing things blow up? 

But, overall, I guess that old habits die hard. Even though now I have a full array of Cable One’s finest available to me 24/7 right in my apartment living room, I still watch more T.V. when I go to give plasma than I do at my apartment. 

Once, after a particularly unproductive search for something to watch, in exasperation I told my roommates it would be better if we didn’t even have a TV. Boy did I hear it then. In that apartment, the TV usually got switched on before the lights did, leading me to complain that it seemed like we hardly ever even had real conversations. 

One Sunday, as we were headed out to church, I happened to be the last one out. I pulled the TV’s cord from the wall socket and tossed it behind the TV. I figured it would be about five minutes before my roommates figured it out. I had to stay for an interview after church and when I got home, the apartment was in crisis mode. “The TV is broke!” my roommates lamented.

I stood silent in the doorway for a moment, considering my options. The fact that I had just come from church made me feel like I needed to make at least a half-hearted attempt at honesty. “Are you sure it’s not just unplugged?” I asked. “No, we checked that!” they insisted. Nervous now that I somehow really had broken the TV, I went back to my room where I confessed my actions to my roommate Jared. “Should I tell them?” I asked. He considered for a brief moment before a sneaky grin grew across his face as he shook his head no. 

Days went by and the living room began a slow transformation. “Actually, I’m really liking  it this way,” one of my roommates said. “I’m getting so much more homework done!” said another. This went on for nearly the whole week, with their conviction and praise of the no-TV idea growing all the time. 

Then, towards the end of the week, I opened the door to a strange noise - ESPN. “So, Brett,” my roommates on the couch said, “We have a story to tell you.” “Oh?” I replied, already nervous at their faux-cool tones. “We put in a work request for the TV and the maintenance man came today.” The tension was building as steeply as in any CSI interrogation scene. “Oh, so he fixed the TV?” I said with veiled cheeriness. “He fixed it alright,” the roommate replied with a similar veil of cheeriness. 

“He plugged it back in, laughed, and said, ‘That’ll be $500!’” The roommate’s glare increased in intensity. 

“Hey, you guys said you liked it,” I reminded them defensively while retreating quickly towards my bedroom. A chorus of, “So it WAS you!” along with a few empty pop bottles and other easily reached throwing items flew after me as I ducked into the room. 

So, here’s to you; the few, the proud, whose childhood homes didn’t have cable. And here’s to that unashamed, singular group of those who still don’t know how many episodes of Seinfeld, Sports Center, or Doug  we missed out on, to those who silently shake our heads when we don’t understand another Office addict insider joke. “We know better,” we tell ourselves. 

Bell Mountain

It was said that Robert Bell, a sixteen year-old English immigrant, rose, “from a modest beginning to a high rank among the most useful citizens of Idaho.”

 The same could be said of the mountain in central Idaho that is named after one of the state’s first and most popular mine inspectors. 

Bell Mountain rises from the inconspicuous foothills of the desert. It ends with an exhilarating climb to the peak that tested our group of aspiring amateur climbers with its near vertical scrambles on exposed faces with more than 500 feet of air at our backs. 

  

There are two approaches to climb Bell Mtn., (East and West). We took the eastern approach. Turning off of the North Salmon Hwy (see map for complete directions) we followed the Forest Service road until we arrived at Bell Mountain Canyon.  Although the signage in the area is sparse, you can feel confident you’re headed in the right direction because of Bell Mountain’s convenient “bell” shaped peak. If it looks like it’s the right general direction, it probably is. 

We left our two-wheel drive van at this point because of deep ruts, but our four-wheel drive truck easily took us all the way to the trailhead farther up the canyon. In the canyon the terrain quickly turns from desert to mountain forest. At least in mid to late summer, when we went, there is no water available in the area. Make sure to bring enough for all your needs in this arid terrain.

Gravel turns to dirt, and eventually the road is just two light wheel tracks and ends at the trailhead. Cattle occasionally graze the area. Our group had a dozen people in it and there was plenty of room to camp overnight. Groups could also camp at several locations within a mile of the trailhead.  No permits are known to be required. Probably due to its remote location, not many climbers or hikers frequent the area.

The eight-mile round-trip “trail” to the mountain is only loosely defined. We headed south out from the trailhead leaving at about 5:15 AM. The reason we started so early was to avoid afternoon thunderstorms. We made it back to the trailhead by a little after 6 PM.  There’s a path that leads in the general direction of the peak but eventually tapers off and you can just pick your way through the woods. 

After the forest we scrambled up several fairly steep rock and shale slides. These were followed by going along ridges and crossing more slides (we followed the mountain goat / footpaths across) until we arrived at the base of the side of the bell shaped tip. Good boots are a must. 

The trailhead sits at about 8,000 ft. To the base of the peak is a roughly 3,000-foot gain in elevation. To the peak, our GPS showed we’d add an additional 600+ feet to top out at 11,612 ft. The peak’s GPS coordinates are N 44.236 and W -113.1945.  

This relatively low altitude peak might sound deceiving, but the last bit of climb is pretty intense. For perspective, it’s slightly less difficult than the Owen-Spalding route on the Grand Teton, or significantly harder than Chicken Out Ridge on Mt. Borah. 

I wouldn’t recommend trying it without at least some previous rock-climbing experience or a trained guide.  If you have either of these (in our case we had both) this part is a lot of fun. Without them, it could be deadly. Check your holds for loose rocks. Lots of rocks that appear stable or solid are actually loose or broken.  Ropes can be used for descending.

The view from the top is everything you’d hope for after a good climb. Mt. Borah, Idaho’s tallest mountain is visible to the west across the valley. Diamond Peak is also visible to the southeast. 

Even with the area as dry as it is, you can still run into some wildlife. We had a noisy bunch of elk run through our camp after we went to bed. Once we started approaching the high ridges we spotted a few white mountain goats as well.